


Tramuntana

by squirrellysemantics



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Sex, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-10-27 11:25:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10808097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squirrellysemantics/pseuds/squirrellysemantics
Summary: A strong wind blows and they say that all who are touched by it emerges forever changed.  A look at the Ryder/Reyes romance after MEA.Spoilers through to post ending Mass Effect Andromeda.  Not explicit beyond some swearing yet. Will likely get much more explicit if I can get my shit together. Literally first thing I have written in years and feeling rusty.  Can be viewed as stand alone.





	1. Chapter 1

That the message turns up on Reyes’s private comm channel with zero indication of where it comes from is almost the least interesting thing about it. 

Almost.

An email from nowhere, from no one, no headers or traces of where its from but it shows up on his com just the same.  A plea made of three words and it’s been a long, long time that three little words can burn so badly.

**_Ryder needs you._ **

The scars from Landing Day still ache at night and it is a startling realization that how much time has passed since then. Politics on Kadara and the settling of Meridian had kept both men busy beyond imagining, excuse after excuse. But over a month?  Truly?

Had they really gone that long since… since…

A month since that moment when Ryder finally freed himself from that ridiculously dull party to meet him in a certain storage room. Reyes half closes his eyes and he can still feel that delicious smile tickling his ear, a teasing murmur between them, a laugh from Ryder that becomes a moan that seared its way into memory. A month since Reyes had that body trembling under, over, in and around him-

**_Ryder needs you._ **

Reyes rarely finds himself on the wrong side of a mystery and the firm conclusion is that he does not like it, not one little bit. Surely Ryder would reach out to him directly through their usual channels, no? And this cryptic message feels nothing like their usual flirtations, as brief or infrequent as they are.

But something is wrong and Reyes needs to see for himself. He pulls up a comm channel.

“Ryder,” Reyes begins, dialing the charm up to maximum, but once the man connects, any pretense that the call is spontaneous slips away and the truth comes spilling out much more brutally than intended. “You look like shit!”

Reyes never thought the words would come from his mouth but Ryder indeed looks… fucking awful.  Exhaustion ages the young man ten years, dark circles under his eyes hollow him out with sallow cheeks and heavy brow. 

Ryder breaks out into a bemused smile at the sight of him but the weariness weighing down his shoulders doesn’t go away. “Good to see you, too. Are you in trouble or something?”

It’s simply a tease and the humor is good to hear. “I could ask you the same thing.” 

The genuine smile falls away from the handsome face, replaced by one that paints no such sincerity. “Everything’s fine. Just a lot of stuff going on.”

Ryder was always a terrible liar.

“Good,” Reyes says, knowing when to pick his battles. He drops the artifice for a moment. “I… I miss you. That’s all.”

Confession shouldn’t be this painful, but it takes work getting used to wearing your heart on your sleeve. Whatever burden Ryder carries seems worlds lighter when his real smile returns, warm enough to melt the coldest heart. “I miss you too.”

A voice pops over the comm channel on Ryder’s end.

“Pathfinder, this is Bradley. We’ve got a situation here. Do you have a moment?”

Ryder mouths a frustrated ‘fuck!” and the exhaustion floods back through, consuming whatever energy he had.  “Look, I gotta go.”

“I won’t keep you, then,” Reyes says, letting Ryder sign off. “See you soon.”

Sooner than Ryder realizes, perhaps.  Still…

The secretive note is not from Ryder, then.

So who is the little interloper? A game or a trap, perhaps. Bait for Reyes himself or perhaps yet one more creature in this universe who wishes to meet the Charlatan to hand deliver a bullet somewhere right between the eyes.

If so, they will have to just wait their turn.

**_Ryder needs you_ ** **.**

Well, Reyes needs Ryder so that settles that.

There’s no need to investigate where the Tempest takes its crew.  The human Pathfinder can barely pass wind without the press writing about a breathless editorial praising him for it these days.  Reyes funnels enough credits to the Angaran whose shuttle he borrows to guarantee maximum discretion and he is on his way.

Meridian.  Much has changed since Reyes was last here though it is still as much a marvel it was on that first day. Once his stomach survives the flip in gravity, he guides the shuttle the long way down to take in what he could not in the heat of battle. This planet thrives in a way the sterile Nexus never did, warm and vibrant and teeming with life.  A cradle of a brand new civilization at the beating heart of an ancient sphere.

The docking bay is a chaotic mess, full of traders, officials, and passengers of all shapes and sizes. The one thing he does not expect is a small gaggle of children, actual children, and it hits hard at how it is only weeks ago that this would have been an impossible sight in Heleus. And here they are, squealing, shouting, a living legacy to the wounds Ryder healed.

It takes a little dancing to navigate the crowd and Reyes has always been an excellent dancer. He neatly sidesteps out of the way of a frazzled Asari trying to herd her small flock or at least tries to as someone backs into him in their attempt to do the same-

“My apologies,” he is quick to say, steadying himself and the young woman that jostles him in their collision while the gaggle of children swarm past. “I hope I did not-“

He knows her immediately, even though the first and last he saw of her was when her and her brother stumbling out into the light after defeating the Archon.

“You,” she says with bright blue eyes that he knows from another face and they narrow with suspicion that is sadly just as familiar.  She looks healthy, now, healthier at least, no longer gaunt and pale but he knows from experience that not all wounds are visible on the outside. “You’re Vidal.”

“And you must be Sara Ryder!” he counters swiftly, thoughts regrouping. Did she summon him here? She must have, unusual means or no. He is still a stranger to her, no matter how invisibly Scott binds them together.

How much does she know?

“I don’t believe we’ve formally met,” he continues, laying on generous dose of congeniality when instinct takes over.   “What a crime that I should only meet you now. Your brother is remiss in not introducing us sooner.  From the stories I hear, all of Heleus should tremble at the thought of another Ryder running free in the cluster.”

Her sharp scrutiny cuts straight through his bluster. “I’ve heard a lot of stories about you too, Mr Vidal.”

Well, then.

Her watchful eye is impenetrable to read, a yawing chasm of uncertainty opening up in front of Reyes that he has only felt once before since first waking in Andromeda.  Opinions are like assholes, they say. Everyone’s got one and the only thing that kept him alive on Kadara was not giving a shit about any opinion but his own. And that worked. For the most part.  Until one day-

You look like you’re waiting for someone.

Between one heartbeat and the next, someone else’s opinion mattered.

How strange. How unfamiliar. And before him is family, another part of the equation that taunts him in his ignorance.  Meeting like this was never part of the plan and Reyes is normally a very careful man.  His thoughts flounder, fearful of his next steps in ways he hasn’t been for a very long time. 

What he does know is how much the Ryder twins mean to each other and that now means that this woman who watches him like she’s ready to peel back his skin layer by layer also matters.

The small, dark corner he hides from everyone, himself most of all, awakens, uncoils with whispers, pouring doubt into his ear. 

The Ryders are good people, Vidal. Honest people. Nothing like you.  

But no. He received a message. He has a purpose here even if he is still not entirely sure what that is.

Reyes pulls himself to his full height, palm pressed over his heart with as much sincerity as he can manage. “Those stories? Damned lies. Every single one.”

The hint of a smile briefly skirting across her face and he permits himself to breathe at least a little.

“I got your message,” he probes, no hint of the questions he most wants to ask. “So here I am.”

“Message?”  Her thoughtful squint makes her look so very much like her brother. “If you got something, it wasn’t from me.  But, it’s good to have you here.”

The sharp laugh that escapes him holds more truth than he would like. “I think that may be the first time in my life anyone has said that to me. But tell me- is there something you need?”

“Not me,” she says, gaze turning inward to somewhere Reyes isn’t allowed to go. “It’s Scott. He’s hiding something, something big and he won’t say what it is.  Not to me. Not to anyone.”

A familiar stubborn fire sets her alight, a fierce line set tight across her shoulders.  “After all we’ve been through, _asshole_ thinks he’s protecting me, protecting all of us but he can take that martyr bull shit and shove it down his _stupid_ cake hole.”

If there was any lingering doubt that this woman had Ryder blood in her veins, there is none now.

But any mirth Reyes finds in this disappears under a cloud of doubt. Trust is a commodity in short supply when it involves Reyes Vidal. He is not so sure he has earned his place.

“I… don’t think I will get you anything of value,” he says slowly, painfully, his practiced dissembling abandoning him, leaving him completely adrift.

“Says you,” Sara states plainly, her scrutiny calling him a liar the one time he most wishes he was.  “Try anyway. You mean a lot to him.”

He almost misses her murmured addition.  “More than you know.”

It shocks him how it sets his heart hammering in his chest. This ‘caring’ business is harder than it looks.

“Then I shall do my best,” he says anew, his reason for being on Meridian taking on a keen urgency.

“Great!” Her whole demeanor turns brighter than a supernova, offering him a hand to shake that he smoothly accepts.

She’s got soft words and a sidewise grin but he starts to sweat when she takes the opportunity to reel him closer. “Oh, and Mr Vidal, I know who you are. Who you _really_ are.”

Reyes tries his best not to let his smile falter, thoughts whirling at what might come next.

“And frankly, I don’t care,” she continues without pause. Her grip around his palm tightens to the point of pain. “If you break my brother’s heart, I’m gonna turn your balls into a piñata. Are we clear?”

It is hardly the first time he received a threat of emasculation though it is the only time that it causes such relief. He brings the back of her hand to his lips for the briefest kiss.  “Clear as crystal”.

“Good.”  She slips from his grasp and with a single backwards glance, Sara Ryder continues on her way.

A sigh explodes from Reyes, the sea of people that is Port Meridian oblivious to it all.

Ryders. Two of them. Their mother must have been a saint.

Navigating his way to the living quarters is no challenge even though he’s never been here before. The location he needs simply appears whenever he pulls up his map even though there are no other markers to be found.

The door spirals unlocked at his approach and Reyes enters the room with care, sticking to the shadows as always.

Ryder has his back to him, too intent on the stack of data pads in front of him to notice he is no longer alone.

“Another fucking dead end,” Ryder spits out, and there is a loud clatter as the piles on his desk take the brunt of his frustration.  He leans heavily against the table, head hanging low.   “You’re telling me that _none_ of the Arks have any audio record of their last communications with the Milky Way?”

= _That data is lost, Pathfinder=_

Ryder finally turns to the light, but he is too consumed by whatever devil has him to see that Reyes is there.  What was merely worrying over vid com is shocking now, a handsome face that should never look so haggard, blue eyes barely staying open as Ryder shakes to clear his head.

“Lost? Or scrubbed?,” he asks, long fingers working over a knot at the base of his neck.

= _There is evidence of deletion. I may be able to recover this information via interface with the Ark’s SAM node but Scott… .=_

There is a long pause and through it, Reyes sticks to the darkness, shocked to hear an AI speak so plainly. He knows SAM is much more than a glorified toaster, but this exceeded any expectations.

 _= Perhaps it is best you allow a period of rest before pursuing this further. I detect persistently elevated levels of catecholamines as well as high glutamate levels in your system which suggests…_ =

A long and tortured sigh deflates Ryder until he takes a seat at the edge of his bed.

“Save it, SAM! The longer we wait, the colder this trail gets and it’s pretty goddamn cold already.”

He slumps into his hands, head hanging low.

Reyes has to strain to hear Ryder add “I need to know for sure.”

Before Reyes can move, Ryder shakes himself off and is at it again.  “What’s new since this morning, SAM?”

The words hang over Ryder’s head, shoulders sagging waiting for an answer he seems to expect.

_= You have four hundred and seventy three unread emails, Pathfinder.=_

 A groan of despair and Ryder gives in, flinging himself spread eagled back into his bed, face hidden in the crook of his arm as if his elbow alone can shield him from an avalanche of shit.

_=I have prioritized requests into appropriate subfolders if that assists you in any way.=_

“Great,” he says with a roll of the r that makes it clear it is anything but. 

A voice pops from thin air, prim and proper accent that sounds like that Asari doctor whose full time job was patching up Pathfinders. “Ryder….”

The whole of Ryder goes rigid, like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar even though she cannot possibly see him.  “Shhiii… heeey, Lexi.  How’s it going?”  Nonchalance is not his forte.

“How it’s not going, you mean?”  The disembodied voice does little to shield her annoyance.  “I am sitting here looking at my scanner that does not have you in it. Like we planned.  For the third time this week.”

“Lexi, I’m sorry,” Ryder tries, but even for this, he lacks the energy. “Look, I promise. Once I’m back on the Tempest, you can poke me as much as you want.”

She lays down a growl that puts a tiger to shame before terminating the call.   “Don’t. Tempt. Me.”

“I am _so_ screwed,” Ryder lets out in a soft croon. He reaches for the bridge of his nose, creating a happy accident, a tantalizing sliver of belly exposed as his shirt creeps up as temptation.

Reyes never could resist temptation.

Finally, he slips from the shadows, amazed that Ryder still isn’t aware of his presence.  He fought alongside the Pathfinder, seen the inhuman reflexes and skills first hand. Reyes tamps down gnawing disquiet that comes from seeing this man in such a state. This moment is not about him and that feeling is most unfamiliar.

He carefully places himself between Ryder’s outstretched legs, the place he knows he belongs, and finally speaks.

“And here I thought poking you as much as I wanted was _my_ job.”

“Reyes?!?” Ryder pops up to his elbows on high alert. “What are you doing- huh… hohhkay, hi” and it is Reyes between his thighs, featherlight strokes at the exposed expanse of abdomen that shuts Ryder down completely.

Given a different time and place, Reyes could do this all day, toying with the fine hairs that peek the length of waistband, feeling hips buck under the softest touch but the writhing it causes is too beautiful to not get closer.  And closer he gets, climbing alongside the perfection sprawled out on the bed before him.

Reyes presses in lengthwise and they lay in parallel, the younger man’s face lighting up, even if fatigue weighs him down. “Pretty sure I locked that door, how’d you-mmph!”

An excellent question but a kiss cuts off any chance of asking. Details, details. There will be time for that later.

Much later if Reyes has anything to say about it.

He traps a full bottom lip between his teeth and Ryder responds with the softest moan, letting his hands roam everywhere as if desperate to commit Reyes to memory.

Chasing after his tongue, Ryder suckles at him, offering small words in between.  “Can you stay? Here, I mean. There’s a bed and everything.”

That earns a curt laugh from Reyes. “Such luxury. I know our usual places are much more public. And pointy. How can I say no?”

Ryder goes still, visceral need writ large along the whole of him. “Then don’t.”

Such a small, simple plea but it steals the breath right from Reyes.  It feels absurd, outlandish that anyone should have to ask something so simple, but neither of them are anything close to normal.  “They will have to pry you away from me.”

The world resets.  Stubble is a delightful rasp against his cheek, Reyes lets slip a moan of his own as Ryder mouths the line of his jaw with one word. “Good.”

Limbs tangle and Reyes accepts the press of the younger man readily, caressing the thigh covering his hip. While similar in height, Ryder is _solid_ and that is strangely a comfort.

Ryder curls into the crook of shoulder offered to him, claiming the neck Reyes makes easy to access in drowsy, unhurried bites.

This in and of itself is so, so different from what he is used to. No rush. No pretense. No byzantine steps to avoid discovery. It is… liberating, to not have to watch every word, craft every gesture.

Is this what trust feels like? Like a warm, woolen coat that’s a perfect fit. He never expected to find this since waking up in Heleus and it is something to savor, like a fine aged whiskey. 

Though he’s not sure he deserved either.

He kneads Ryder’s back in return and it is a delight to hear the man purr under the attention.  Such a tiny thing, but it is soothing in its own right.  The nips and licks at his collar bone become softer, more languid until it becomes the lightest breezy breath puffs against his throat and then-

Absolutely nothing.

Reyes holds still and waits. And waits. And is solidly confused at the limp weight bearing down on him until his chin tickles under a unusually deep sigh. 

“Ryder?” he asks softly and his answer is a soft snore.

His laugh shakes the whole bed to its frame but he chokes it down to not disturb the slumber of the exhausted man pressed into his side.

Of the multitude of reactions Reyes has gotten once getting someone into bed, this was a first. But it’s one that pleases him though it surprises him how much it does.

Simply listening to Ryder breathe atop him brings its own torpor, but Reyes is not quite ready to join Ryder in sleep.

“SAM?” he asks softly, finding his sea legs once more as he flicks the comforter to cocoon the two men in warmth.  “I got your message. Thank you.”

There is that pause again.

= _You are very welcome_ , _Mr Vidal_.=

Tonight holds one less mystery, at least. He draws Ryder in closer.   “Lights out, if you could, SAM.”

= _Of course, Mr Vidal_.=

The room lights dim to blackness and Reyes finally closes his eyes, face buried into the crown of hair of the man asleep alongside him.

“Sleep well, Pathfinder.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said it was going to get explicit. Here's the naughty bit. Angst, some edging, and sex. Comments and critique welcome.

Domesticity has a foreign feel to it, Reyes decides, but this is not a bad thing. It’s a long, slow climb up the steps to wakefulness and he is in no hurry, so he lets his thoughts wander.  Warmth blooms across his back from a body pressed into it, he finds himself pinned in more ways than one by a possessive arm thrown around his waist.  He shifts a bit and a sigh blows across the back of his neck and it triggers a flood of sensation he struggles to define.

For a man so sure he’d seen it all, this- it’s… it’s all so _new_. Unfamiliar. This idea that sits heavy on the tongue like a strange word in a long-forgotten language.

What does he call it, then? Safe? Intimate? An alien concept for him in this galaxy or the last.

A lazy hand stroking his thigh pulls him back to the here and now.  The disheveled head burrowed between his shoulder blades rumbles its displeasure and Ryder’s voice emerges from it, thick and heavy from sleep. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

The words are muffled, but the signal is crystal clear as Ryder pick at edges of zippers and buckles. There’s motion and a brief pause as Ryder takes stock of his own state  “Wait… _I’m_ wearing too many clothes. Did I-? We didn’t… _Fuck_!”

“Sadly, we did not,” Reyes counters with a well-rehearsed sigh.  “Though I will say your attempt was admirable given the circumstances.”

Ryder makes a quick retreat under the comforter. “I am never going to live this down, am I.”

“Of course not,” Reyes offers simply, scooting onto his back, thoroughly pretending to ignore the bundle of embarrassment turtling at his side. “Though give me moment, maybe I can think of two or three… dozen ways you can make it up to me.”

The comforter flies aside and Reyes finds himself straddled by a very awake young man. Very, _very_ awake, by the feel of things and those atrocious trousers Ryder wears out of uniform make for a poor barrier.

“What sort of things?” The question is innocent but Ryder’s hips are emphatically not, as Ryder settles his weight into a slow, pleasing roll.  “Ooo, you mean like doing your laundry?”

Scott shrugs off his tunic and in a single fluid motion, his shirt flies off to some unknown corner of the room, hopefully never to be seen again if Reyes has anything to say about it.

“I also make a mean martini,” the little shit continues as if he wasn’t in any way undulating atop Reyes’s dick.   “It’s really just a mug with gin in it but martini sounds more impressive-”

Reyes grasps at the delicious display of torso, rocking into the man above him in counterpoint. “Hmm, you satisfying my every desire. I suppose that could be acceptable.”

Ryder has a predatory smile.  “Oh, really?”

The snap into action is clean, swift, efficient, catching Ryder off guard, though he is no less delighted. Reyes gathers up the man above him and flip!-  an easy trading of places on the bed, so it’s Ryder on his back, legs snaking around Reyes.  Resting between the other man’s thighs,  it’s Reyes who now gets to punctuate his words with the grind of his hips.

“Yes. Really.”

Using some sort of witchcraft, Ryder responds in a kiss using his whole body, dragging Reyes to him by the lapels, long legs hooking at the ankles to keep Reyes against him.

But it’s too far, too fast when there’s no need for it.  Not now. No more power struggle over a planet where a stray raindrop means death. No Archon breathing down their necks, hunting down entire species for sport.

As much as it pains Reyes to do so, he peels away the hands doing a damn good job of tearing the flight suit from his back.

“Easy, now,” Reyes says softly, and Ryder is a gorgeous, flustered sight to behold, with a flush that turns him radiant, blue eyes blown wide.  “No more rushing.”

He pauses to lap at the sweat dewing up along Scott’s collar bone with small flicks of the tongue. “We have all the time in the world.”

Ryder purrs under the attention. “You’re still nowhere near naked enough for this-”

Reyes shucks off one glove, then another. “Then let’s get started, shall we?”

Odd to think that they’ve never really seen each other fully in the flesh, so to speak.  A cold, dark cave here. A secluded store room there. Shit light, shit conditions. Always the risk of discovery. Always duty pulling them apart. Now, with the last stitch of clothing a messy pile on the floor, it’s good to finally admire the details.

Long and lean limbs and strong shoulders to support them.  A body forged in the fire of combat. How much history they have yet to share is daunting, but they each take the time to read what stories are written on their skin.

“What’s this from?” Reyes asks, using the flat of his tongue to trace the pattern of the shiny healed stretch of burn along Ryder’s flank.

“Architect on Eos,” Ryder shares. “Fuck, those things are annoying.”

He rotates to access Reyes for himself, mouthing an old entry wound he finds on Reyes’s bicep. ”Where’d you get this?”

“Business transaction gone wrong. Messy all around.”

“I bet.”

“This one?” Reyes requests with a nibble around a scar -old, flat, no bigger than a pea- that he finds on the outside of Ryder’s hip.

“Hmm?” Ryder lies sprawled out before him fully naked and it’s adorable that it’s the scar that turns him red with embarrassment.  “Oh, _that_. My sister. We were twelve. Stabbed me with a stylus when I stole her favorite sweatshirt. You do _not_ want to piss her off.”

Looking away doesn’t quite cover the smile Reyes has for this. “So I’ve heard.”

Now that it’s his turn, Scott goes straight for the long, jagged starburst pattern that follows just beneath Reyes’s rib that they’ve both been dancing around. Of course, he does. It’s hard to miss, and Ryder is no fool. Reyes lets him examine it with a feather light hand. “This doesn’t look like it was much fun.”

It wasn’t. “A souvenir from my first night on Kadara.” Reyes swallows thickly, the first chill he felt since his arrival on Meridian.  “Someone wanted to take my ship.  I… couldn’t let that happen.” 

Reyes shakes off the memory and continues his exploration, kissing a path along a collar bone.  He finds a small wound, recently healed in the grand scheme of things, near the base of Ryder’s hairline.

“What’s this?”

Ryder startles away from the almost-touch with surprising violence.  “It’s nothing.”

Lying out your ass is something Ryder should leave to Reyes, he thinks.  “Looks like a lot of something for it to be nothing.”

It is physically painful to see Ryder fake a smile and more painful still to watch it fragment and crumble.  “That’s… that was a ‘Welcome to Heleus’ present from the Archon when we rescued the Salarian ark.”

The report for that mission had been encrypted with the highest, need to know level security clearance code around, which of course meant Reyes had read it as soon as it ended up in his hands. The Kett flagship. Ryder caught and injected with god knows what.  A trap with only one means of escape.  Actual details were vague but Reyes knows enough that was the stuff of nightmares.

Was, or rather is, he realizes with Ryder holding impossibly still.

Cautious and slow, as if approaching a wounded animal, Reyes brushes the man’s cheek.  The touch sets off a pressure valve and Ryder releases the breath he doesn’t realize he’s holding.

“I won’t pretend to comprehend what you’ve been through, Ryder.”  Fingers curled behind one ear, the pad of his thumb strokes Ryder’s lip. Raw honesty seems a treacherous path, one that Reyes has little experience navigating but he knows he must do it anyway.

“Our savior, the Pathfinder,” he tries and Ryder watches him with eyes that burn. “But that’s not all you are. I’ve seen your strength and your sacrifice. _You_ are worth more than your title. And I would do anything to protect _you_.”

The tension that had held to a simmer becomes unbearable the longer Ryder stays silent, bubbling and boiling until Reyes can’t take it any longer.

“Besides, your ass is spectacular,” he says as seriously as he can manage. “I mean, who _wouldn’t_ want to keep _that_ safe-”

A muffled whump from the pillow landing upside his head from nowhere but it’s a surprise he welcomes freely with laughter.

The smile Scott has for him is brighter than a thousand Elaaden days and his kiss is warmer still.  “You are _such_ a dick.”

Relief is an ocean and Reyes dives right in. “I get that a lot.”

That sweet smile Ryder had turns to one of pure wickedness as he pulls himself closer. “Good thing I like dicks…”

It turns into a full embrace, limbs in a jumble, and contact of all skin to all skin is pure magic. 

There’s one thing that Reyes wants to take care of before they begin.  He inches to the scar again in small kisses, gauging Ryder’s response with infinite care.  The other man stiffens for a moment but ultimately tilts his head to one side, granting access.

Trust is a rare gift and for that Reyes is grateful. He turns on it, licking, sucking, worshiping the spot with his tongue to suck out the poison lingering beneath the skin. His bites start a bruise, overwriting the scar, all the while with soft moans in his ear and Ryder’s hands working the small of his back encouraging him onward.

“There,” Reyes says, admiring his handiwork. “Much better.”

Ryder pants under the attention, flush creeping down to his collar bone, and he is perfection. A Renaissance painting come to life. 

“Thank you,” Scott murmurs and there it is again, that feeling that leaves Reyes scrambling for words to describe.

Contentment? Satisfaction? Happiness? It’s all of those things and perhaps none at all. He leaves it be for now. So much easier to fall back on his strengths. 

“Please,” he scoffs in full humor. “We’ve hardly started.” 

Reyes slides his way down and finds Scott half-way to hard. Here is where he begins, careful and meticulous as always, appreciating sight, sound, and smell.  Sweat has its own but there’s something to the essence of cock that has its own spice. Ryder is one of a kind even here, so Reyes pauses to commit this to memory.  There’s more than a little hair here, but Reyes doesn’t mind.  He starts at the base, nuzzling along the shaft under Ryder’s watchful gaze. 

Eye contact has a power all its own and Reyes will not break it even when using long, flat licks from base to tip. Ryder is nearly full and his cock gains enough heft to it that Reyes finally turns his attention to the head.  He kisses it as if he were kissing Ryder full on the mouth, a light suction here and there that gets Ryder all the way to ready.

No one is in any hurry here, well, except perhaps Ryder after a few minutes, who lets out small noises that show him inching closer and closer to desperate.  Reyes takes his time, though, lapping at precome with precise little licks.  One hand he uses to steady the object of his attention, the other splayed out, massaging along Ryder’s thighs to appreciate the dance of muscle. Ryder and his hands are the opposite, in constant motion over Reyes’s shoulders and neck, carding through his thick head of hair with some hints as to his urgency.

How much time passes? It could have been a few minutes or a few hours for all Reyes cares. Ryder isn’t begging for release yet and that is all that truly matters. Making sure to wet a finger, he takes Ryder into his mouth, working his lips around the girth. 

Playing with Ryder’s perfect ass is impossible to resist with Ryder twitching as he does.  Just tapping around the rim has Ryder jumping and Reyes plays off of that, timing a mouthful of cock before pulling off just as he teases his way around, repeating until Ryder doesn’t know which way to move. 

Once he gets a digit all the way in, Reyes goes even slower, probing until he finds exactly what he wants.  Curling his finger gets Ryder’s thighs quivering in the most outstanding fashion and those moans that Reyes enjoys so much get louder and louder. 

Ryder tugging on his hair is just a bonus.

The breathless warning is kind.  “I’m gonna… gonna-“  Though Reyes already knows Scott is close with how balls jump under his hand. 

Finishing now would be no fun at all so Reyes withdraws entirely. “Now, now, we have the whole night ahead of us…”

“Fucking fuck _fuck_!” is all Ryder has to say, though his body speaks for him, trembling and flush nearly down to his waist. The man fumbles blindly through his night stand but he finds what he’s looking for anyway.  Reyes looks to take the bottle but Ryder beats him to it and looking Reyes dead in the eye, he portions out a generous amount of gel to begin preparing himself.

The sight making him possibly the hardest he’s ever been in his life, Reyes savors front row seats to the show, running his hands along Ryder’s thighs in encouragement. Is this for him? Reyes cannot believe it. With all he’s done, what did he ever do to deserve any of this? Quite the opposite in fact, but the thought is interrupted when Ryder is ready and leans in to kiss him. All he hears now is his own pulse pounding in his ears.

The gel is brutally cold on his own dick but Ryder warms it for Reyes quickly enough, getting his own chance to play. After a few pumps of his fist, Ryder leans on his back and lines him up to guide Reyes in and Reyes hands him the reins for now, no desire to cause any harm. 

The feeling of Ryder relaxing around him is heady and the desire for a hard, fast rut is damn near overwhelming, but this is a precious thing that Reyes wants to last. This isn’t some quick back room fuck.  He bows his head which is probably the closest Reyes has ever come to a prayer, careful to keep his movements gentle until Ryder is fully ready for him.

It takes a little angling to find the right position, but once they have it, Reyes resumes control.  He starts soft and shallow, tilting Ryder’s hips up to hit the spot he wants hit. A moment here and a moment there Reyes stops for breath, no wish to race to the finish himself.  Slow and steady, it seems to go on forever until Ryder starts to quake.

Sweat starts to pool in earnest as Reyes throws his back into it, no change in speed but depth adds a whole new dimension.  He pauses when he bottoms out to find Ryder’s fingers digging into his ass, demanding Reyes go even deeper. 

He would if he could, but Reyes switches between patterns to keep things going.  Quick and hard can’t happen for long, but he does what he can between long, drawn out glides. He keeps the movements fluid, ever changing until Ryder’s lips latch on to his neck.

They’re ready.

Picking up the pace with Ryder’s grunts in his ear, Reyes wraps his arms under the other man’s shoulder to drive into him, slamming, pounding with a force that makes the bed complain.  The breaths Ryder takes become a musical staccato, his thighs start to shake and then-

Reyes wonders if he’s going to live to regret his life choices when he goes completely, utterly still.

“Fu- _uck_!” Ryder shouts loud enough to hear back in the Milky Way. “Justletmecome!”

“What’s the magic word?” Reyes hasn’t decided exactly what that word might be yet but, Ryder doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m gonna _kill_ you!”

“Ah ah ah,” Reyes is quick to admonish.  He demonstrates what is lacking with a few quick thrusts that get Ryder immediately rocking.  “ _That’s_ not it. Try again!”

Ryder glares at him and it’s hard to tell whether it is lust fueled frustration or seething anger or somewhere in between. “OK,” he manages between gritted teeth.  “I’m going to tie you down, fuck you into next week and _then_ I’m gonna kill you!”

It’s rather impressive how coherent that is but the only real way an answer does it justice is when Reyes adds a leer. “Is that a promise?” 

Ryder tries to throw himself against him but Reyes doesn’t let him and the incensed bucking nearly flings them both from the bed. Scott grabs two fistfuls of the other man and drags him in, the kiss ruthless in a delightful way, the bite he takes at the lip he tongues between his teeth close to drawing blood.  

“You fucking _bastard_!”

Reyes fully kisses back and a whisper slips out of him as if it’s the most natural thing in the world-

“I love you, too.”

And there it is. The word that Reyes struggled with all along startles them both into stillness.

For being so small, there is an enormity to it.  Said in jest but the truth can be funny sometimes.

Silence reigns and this is a god damned first, mark-this-day-down-on-your-calendar moment that neither of them has anything to say but sometimes actions speak louder than words. 

A switch flips and Ryder melts around him, hips slowly working back into a rhythm, limbs wrapped tight around Reyes as if afraid the man might fly away but Reyes plans no such thing.

It doesn’t take long for the tension to ramp back up once Reyes starts thrusting in earnest, Ryder beating himself in counter.  The slap of skin to skin fills the air until Reyes shifts to find his stroke and when he finds it, boy, does he find it and those moans that block out anything else almost set him off right there and then.  What a perfect voice Ryder has for it, too, filthy, deep set, and hoarse.

Neither can withstand much more of this and it’s Ryder who first goes completely rigid one moment and starts to shiver the next, a wordless keen dragged out of him with each pulse as he comes. It’s too beautiful to watch so Reyes orgasm hits out of nowhere. He fucks his way through it until they both shoot themselves dry.

Drenched in sweat and come, Ryder collapses heavily onto the bed, panting as if he’s just finished a marathon, which in some ways he had. “Holy. Shit.”

“Yes. Indeed,” Reyes adds with the only thing his addled brain can manage at the moment, collapsing right alongside him.

He said it. He actually said it and Ryder didn’t laugh in his face.

So much unaddressed but the room is hot and humid and reeks of sex, forcing a torpor to wash over them both. Now’s not the time to discuss it.

They tangle together in a sleepy, sticky pile, neither of them really caring if they’ll be glued together by morning. That’s what they need. A proper sleep from a best kind of fatigue and slumber claims them.

Whatever tomorrow will bring can wait.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't have an MEA story without the crew putting in an appearance, can we? Vague attempts at humor, feedback, comments and critique always appreciated.

Meridian is quite simply the polar opposite of Kadara is the first coherent thought Reyes manages on waking.  The stillness, the quiet is nothing like he’s used to. It’s not completely silent, though. The place has a hum to it. Not haunting or intrusive, but a meditative rhythm that pulses like the blood coursing through your veins.

There is a strange parallel. Kadara is much like himself -dirty, loud, and brash- this… this planet -space station, ball of magic, whatever the hell it is- is somehow Ryder.  Both only realized their potential through equal measure of dumb luck and pure determination. Man and Meridian both- a beautiful impossibility, full of life in a brutal, unforgiving galaxy. 

Still, somehow this morning’s lack of urgency leaves Reyes uneasy in the mere matter of its absence, like his tongue poking a gap for a missing tooth.  The peaceful breathing of the man sleeping at his side acts as a focal point, and he clings to this tranquility until reality inevitably intrudes. A year of being pared down to the bone to survive leaves him wondering when -not if- this serenity will break. 

Reyes will readily admit he is a satyr for the tangible. What does not satisfy his baser urges through liberal application of charm or credits, he will steal without remorse. More substantive desires, however…

He flexes his hand, the weight of Ryder’s head in the crook of his arm having long since left it numb, taking infinite care that this does not disturb the man still sleeping beside him.

For a man always ready with a plan, Ryder leaves him foundering in unfamiliar territory, awash in self-doubt and recrimination, making the way forward even more uncertain. 

Especially after Reyes recalls his admission from last night.

_I love you_

Confession is good for the soul, they say. What an utter load of dog shit.  It is torture and chaos, flaying your chest open until it left your heart beating and bleeding out on the floor.

But Reyes had already tried the other path when they first met, hadn’t he, and what a fiasco it nearly caused. After the disastrous first year on the Nexus, no sane man would trust the idiots left in charge of the Initiative or some newly anointed Pathfinder they shipped to Kadara as their representative. Reyes believes his choice made sense with what he knew at the time.

At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself, yet still his stomach turns at how differently the events in Draullir could have played out. What if he’d trusted Ryder a little bit more or if Ryder trusted him a little bit less….

But no one can live in hindsight.  What has been done cannot be undone.  Not here and certainly not on Kadara.

One day, Reyes fully expects to pay the piper for his crimes but he prays that today is not that day.

The breaths he listens to grow quicker, a reminder of how this moment is a rare and precious gift. But like all things ephemeral, this too must end and so it goes as Ryder stirs slowly, lengthening alongside him in a luxuriant, feline stretch. 

“Why, hello there,” Reyes murmurs softly, shocked at how much his heart quickens at the sight of the sleepy smile brightening Ryder’s handsome face.

Ryder’s voice is a smokey rumble. “Funny how we keep meeting like this.”

The kiss Reyes gets is surprisingly chaste for how downright filthy they both are, an innocent contrast to the events of the night before that got them that dirty in the first place.

“Shower?” Ryder asks simply.

”Shower,” he agrees.

He said ‘shower’ but Reyes hadn’t in any way expected an actual shower until the first blast of water hits his back. Though it’s been months since Ryder healed Kadara, something other than a quick sonic shower was something he’d last seen before Andromeda.

And it. Is. Heaven. 

Heat loosens the soreness in his shoulders and Ryder is delightful company as they each do a thorough job of washing each other’s grime away. The water recycler hums along and Reyes would stay here if it would let him.

Ryder paints the other man’s jaw line in small nips. “So, I was wondering…” he begins slowly, and it sets Reyes’s pulse racing for all the wrong reasons.

“What brought you all the way out here?”

Not the question Reyes has been expecting but he’ll take it, though Ryder’s small motions sudsing the small of his back is a wicked distraction.

“Happened to be in the neighborhood,” Reyes offers, gently stroking the curve of Ryder’s hip. “Figured I should stop by…”

For this, he receives an answer in the smallest sweet kiss and an even sweeter whisper brushing against his lips-

“ _Bull_ _shit_.”               

It isn’t that easy to cover his laugh with a cough with a beautiful man sucking on his neck but Reyes tries it anyway. “Okay, fine.  A little bird told me you needed help. So here I am.”

Ryder snaps out at the ether, though he looks not at all intimidating with his soaked hair jutting everywhere like a waterlogged adhi. “SAM! Nobody likes a tattle tale!”

That pause, as if some great calculation was taking place then-

= _Apologies, Pathfinder. You appeared in need of assistance_ -=

“Oh, hush now,” Reyes calls to the air, delivering a slap to Ryder’s buttock.  “SAM, don’t listen to the mean man. You did the right thing.”

The words don’t placate Ryder but he still leans into the hands working him over, at least. “I don’t want a damn babysitter-“

Reyes moves in, letting his thumb trace a path along the full curve of lower lip and it retargets Scott’s heated focus on him. 

“SAM was concerned,” Reyes says softly. “All he did was remind me of how derelict I’ve been.“

He kneads a knot under Ryder’s shoulder blade but the tension is slow to ease.  “Let people worry about you. You don’t have to fight the good fight all on your own.”

Eyes with impossible lashes flutter shut for a moment, droplets clinging as the water continues raining down.  “So it doesn’t bother you?”

Another question Reyes does not expect and it leaves him slackjawed. “I’m sorry. What doesn’t bother me?”

There’s anguish in the shock of blue gaze that meets him and it knocks Reyes back on his heels.

“Me. And SAM,” Ryder begins, so raw and open that Reyes finds himself circling his arms around the man without hesitation.  “Both of us in my head. Living. Working. _Everything_ together.”

The unspoken keeps Reyes in silence.  The concern had honestly never crossed his mind, but not for the reasons Ryder thinks.

As seconds tick by, Ryder gets more and more frantic in his misery.  “I know-it’s a little weird. Or a lot weird.  Okay, it’s really, _really_ fucking weird but-“

“Come now,” Reyes scolds softly. “Surely you realize I always do my best work in front of an audience.”

The bubble bursts and if Ryder’s eyes rolled any harder, they would be looking out the back of his skull. “Uh huh.”

“Ryder,” Reyes starts again, schooling himself into seriousness. “SAM is a part of you.”

He pauses again, so cautious, so unused to wielding unvarnished truth.  It would be so much easier to say the words without meeting Ryder eye to eye, but this is far too important to take the coward’s way out.

“The only reason I am here now,” he continues, Scott watching his every move. “Is because you accepted me for who _and_ what I am.”

He swallows thickly. They both know there is blood on his hands that nothing will wash away. 

 “ _All_ of what I am,” he finishes, words catching rough and sharp in his throat.  “I can do no less-no, you _deserve_ no less.”

Seconds tick by as the younger man stands unreadable but Reyes holds his ground as best he can as he wonders if he has ruined everything yet again.

“Okay,” is all Reyes hears and in between one blink and the next, the shower’s plasticrete walls are an ice-cold shock against his bare ass and he finds himself pinned, full length pressed into place by a whole lot of very enthusiastic Pathfinder. 

Reyes laughs into the mouth trying to suck on his tongue. “Is this when I clear my schedule for the next week?”

“Pfft, no,” Ryder blows out, intent on their embrace, slotting their legs together to get as much skin close to skin as he can manage.  “I didn’t get a chance to pick up any rope.”

“You know, I _could_ arrange a deliver- oh.” Whatever witticism Reyes planned on making goes down the memory hole once Ryder grabs him by the dick.

It’s interesting how much you can tell about a person by their hands.  The callus pattern show how much Ryder favors his shotgun, providing a delicious edge as Ryder strokes them both to full arousal.   Long agile fingers bring them closer together, bumping crowns as Ryder takes both their cocks in hand.  The touch is gentle, and the broadness of Ryder’s palms is wide enough to create a chamber that encapsulates them both. 

The silk on silk glide of cock against cock as Reyes thrusts against Ryder is heady in the heat of the shower, and Ryder times his squeezes to perfection. Reyes can only lay his hands atop Ryder’s, adding a twist here and there so he bites at the man’s throat in full appreciation.

There’s none of the slow, meticulous pace shown last night and the shower makes for a magnificent echo chamber, amplifying every sigh and gasp until there’s no longer any pretense in keeping quiet. Foreheads pressed together, they suck air from each other and it doesn’t take long until they are simply in rut, bucking against each other even through the piss poor traction offered by the shower floor.

Reyes is the first to the edge this time, his hands clenching roughly around Ryder’s wrists as he wills this to continue forever.  Yet no one could withstand these sensation for long, so come he does, pulsing, spraying as if he hadn’t had sex in weeks, rather than being wrung dry the night before. The hot slide it adds gets Ryder grunting in his ear and that alone would have made Reyes come, because little sex sounds Ryder makes are filthier than anything Reyes could wish for and oh, god, when Ryder comes, it sets them both shivering, struggling to stay standing on trembling legs.

The shower is the only sound beyond their breathing for an eternity, the water rinsing them clean again.

“Food?” Ryder pants, still struggling to recover.

A melodramatic sigh is really the only answer for Reyes, as he delivers a parting caress to one globe of lovely ass. “I suppose.”

Putting on clothes is definitely not as much fun as taking them off, but Ryder aims to make it that way with a myriad casual touches as they dress.

“You are incorrigible,” Reyes says, returning the favor as his hands sneak up Ryder’s shirt. “Which is good because so am I.”

“Try to keep up,” Ryder boasts with a flash of a wicked, wicked smirk.  Reyes cannot tear his eyes from it, so much so that he lets out a hiss when Ryder sneaks in for a grab, adjusting his dick for him through his trousers.

“Do you want us to starve to death?” Reyes purrs, slowly padding his way towards the devil dancing away from him. “Because keep doing _that_ and we will _never_ leave this room.”

“You know, that doesn’t sound half bad,” Ryder says thoughtfully, tugging the sleeves of his shirt up to reveal the delightful lines of his forearms. “Considering the other ways I’ve ended up dying…”

Reyes makes a bid to grab at the other man’s waist, but the doors open automatically, giving Ryder an easy out as he backpeddles tantalizingly out of reach. 

Or not so easy, since the way forward is blocked by guns attached to a pair of Initiative soldiers. Reyes remains stock still at the pistols shoved in his face.

“Dying? Who’s dying?!?”

Quite recognizable, the woman just outside the door that demands an answer.  She’s one of Ryder’s crew and her sidearm does not waver. The other human squaddie stands shoulder to shoulder with her, the man hawkish in every line, Kosta blazoned on his uniform, gun trained on Reyes though he makes a show of his own hands being empty.

“Funny meeting you two here,” Ryder starts casually enough, though his sneer fires up the tension right quick. “Did I miss the memo where you two planned on laying siege on my apartment?”

Weapons disappear in between heartbeats, for which Reyes is quite appreciative.

The blonde woman- Harper, he’s sure of it - goes from steel eyed soldier to an all-encompassing shade of red that transforms her into a human-sized, uniformed tomato.

“Ryder!  Hi!  Uh… we were… um,” she flails weakly, and Ryder shows zero interest in helping her out of the hole she’s digging.  “Just dropping off some…some-“

The young Englishman named Kosta goes from hawk to puppy, bouncing on the balls of his feet as if he had just taken a crateful of adrenal stim packs before he manages to chime in.  “Some… status? Reports?” 

It would probably have helped if Kosta didn’t state this in the form of a question, but the blonde woman latches on to this like a life buoy.

“Yes!” Harper tries again.  “Status reports!   About- “

Kosta looks a little desperate but still, he comes in with the assist. “Things!”

Or… not.

“Things?” The woman turns on her ally at his betrayal.  “ _Things_ , Liam?  _Seriously_?!?”

“Hokay,” Ryder mutters under his breath, idly scratching at his temple as if this might make the pain go away.  “You are both awful at whatever this is, you know that, right?”

This doesn’t deter the energetic young man. “Yeah, yeah, but c’mon, can you blame us? Life sign alerts were dinging like crazy! The techs monitoring SAM node about shit themselves!” 

Harper’s flaming red continues to creep past the roots of her hair. “SAM refused to show us anything.  He said you were… exercising.”

“For a couple of hours,” Kosta adds, breaking out into a grin that could have won a week-long shit eating competition. “Though now we know what you were actually doing, I gotta say, I’m kinda impres- OW!”

The hallway echoes with a dull thud from the punch Harper delivers to the man’s shoulder and he nurses it with a whimper so she continues in his stead. “Then this morning we got concerned when you weren’t answering your comm.”

This catches Ryder flat footed. “My comm?  I didn’t-“ 

The indicator reads large over Ryder’s shoulder as the man calls it up- 5 missed calls. 

Ryder is strikingly handsome when he twists up in a snarl. “SAM, you little-“

Harper remains a vortex of concern. “We _had_ to make sure you were okay-”

Kosta helps once more. “I mean, it’s not like you’ve got the greatest personal safety record.” 

She shoots Kosta a look that could have blown a hull through a Kett warship as she continues, “And you stepped out of there talking about dying-” 

“Buuut it looks like you were doing just fine,” Kosta finishes, dimples popping after a vague gesture at Ryder’s arm.

“What are you-” Ryder tries to follow the line of sight, an awkward dance as he attempts to examine himself to locate what caught Kosta’s eye.

And he lets everyone know when locates it- “Fuu-uck!”

“Should have guessed you’d be into that sort of- OW! Lay off, Cora, that really hurts!”     

Reyes finally spots it.  Around either of Ryder’s wrists, there lies the beginnings of a bruise in the shape of handprints. His handprints, more specifically.

All eyes turn on Reyes but all he can offer is a shrug with a smirk that he makes little attempt to keep to himself. “Whoops.”

Ryder doesn’t bother shoving down his sleeves to cover up evidence from this morning. ” _Great_.”

With the situation under as much control as it was going to get, the soldier in Harper gets her snapping to attention.  “Now that we cleared that up, sorry to have disturbed you, Ryder. Welcome to Meridian, Mr. Vidal.”

“Not exactly putting out the red carpet but it’s the thought that counts,” Reyes concedes with a bemused smile.

“Sorry about the whole nearly-blasting-your-head-off business,” Kosta adds far too cheerfully as the pair of soldiers finally leave them be. “We’ll try extra hard not to kill you next time.”

“That would be appreciated,” Reyes replies on auto pilot, much more entertained by the sight of Ryder attempting to shield misery by holding his face in his hands.

“Can we just go eat now?” Ryder pleads, palms doing an excellent job of muffling his words.

The relative peace of the corridor is short lived, however.  They almost make it to the commissary before a delighted angaran appears magically from thin air before proceeding to tackle Ryder.

“Ryder! You are okay!”

Ryder doesn’t necessarily look okay once the angaran lifts him off the floor rib crushing hug.  “Hi… Jaal.  Air…. Important.”  

“Ah!  Yes. My apologies.”  While the angaran drops Ryder into an unsteady heap, a very amused asari joins their little party.  “Liam said they couldn’t reach you on the comms. We were preparing to mount a rescue party-“

The asari from Ryder’s crew gives them both a serious once over.  “Don’t worry, Ja’al, from the look of things, it looks like the two of them took care of that whole mounting thing already.”

One hand already rubs at Ryder’s temple again. “Thanks, Peebee.”

This look into a side of Ryder he never gets to see means Reyes can’t help himself.  “You know, this is _fascinating._ Is getting your ego crushed on the hour how your day normally goes?”

The weary sigh that escapes from Ryder speaks of a deep-seated suffering. “Kinda. Yeah.”

The one called Peebee breaks out into a saucy smirk that looks like it’s seen a lot of use.  “I guess you guys were too busy playing a little ‘hide the sausage’, but hang a shirt on the door knob or something next time you want to disappear for a while, will ya? Let us know you’re not dead. _Again_.”

A puzzled frown leaves the angaran tugging at his head fringe.  “Is... playing with food a normal part of the human mating ritual?  That seems so ….  wasteful. “

The asari flicks her lips with her suggestive tongue adding a waggle of eyebrows that helps not at all. “Depends on where you’re stickin’ the sausage.”

Ryder jabs an aggravated finger at first the asari, then the angaran. “You. Stop talking. You?  Also, stop talking. I appreciate the concern, but I. Am. Fine.” 

“I should say so!” sings out the asari as she pats a very specific spot peeking out of the neckline at the base of Ryder’s throat.  “Ooo!  Can I watch you call Addison sporting that thing?  It’ll be fun watching her head explode!”

Pulling back on his shirt and Ryder finds the reddened line of teeth marks that stands out in stark contrast on his skin.  “Hoo boy.”

The asari threads an arm with the angaran, dragging them both away as she calls over her shoulder, “Well, see you later! I’d tell you boys to have fun, but you don’t need my help in that department!”

“Is that mark another part of the mating ritual?” you can hear Jaal demands of her as they continue their way down the corridor.  “This is very exciting! Does that mean there will soon be offspring? Or will we only know for certain once the eggs are close to hatching?”

“Jaal, honey, sweetie-we _need_ to work on your reading list.”

If Ryder could disappear into the floor, he would.  “Can someone actually die of embarrassment?  Asking for a friend.”

“Your crewmates certainly seem eager to find out,” Reyes offers helpfully, but his innate paranoia begins whispering in his ear.

Where Reyes might wear his… battle wounds with pride, someone of Ryder’s stature might not.  More footsteps approaching from the distance so he hurries to clear the air.

“Those marks look good on you,” he offers gingerly.  “But if it bothers you, I’ll be more careful.”

Ryder throws that off with a shake of the head. “Embarrassed was the wrong word. I guess I’m still not used to people analyzing every move I make, even with SAM in my head.”

“I… see,” Reyes says while his paranoia tears off another little piece of his soul and he is only peripherally aware that they are joined by three beings as they turn the corner.  “People look up to you. You are truly their Pathfinder now and that sort of… association with someone like me could-”

Before he’s even done speaking, Ryder shoves him back up against the wall and closes in to press along the length of him.  Instinct gets him tensing for a blow, but that’s not at all what Reyes gets.

Instead, a hot mouth latches on to his neck, sucking with a world of enthusiasm and Ryder’s bulk pressing in on him means there’s no escape for any of them. Not him, not Ryder, and not the unfortunate trio who unexpectedly got front row seats.

A..a Salarian and… and…. two humans… ah.. _fuck_!  The teeth biting at his throat are a potent thing, claiming and earnest, but when Reyes tries to sound a warning, Ryder’s freshly clean scent is damn near overwhelming.

“There you are, Ryder! I… uh… oh… oh my!” says someone, the Salarian maybe? The grinding against his thigh means that Reyes doesn’t really give a shit at the moment and it seems neither does Ryder who shoots the three an amazingly casual “hey” before turning his attention back to pinning Reyes’s hands above his head.

“Kallo, don’t stare! It’s not polite.”

Reyes peripherally hears a woman with a shiny Scots accent but he’s too focused on the grip around his wrists, the bruise he already knows will pop up on his neck to truly process what she’s saying. 

Fighting back a moan takes all of his concentration but through the fog Reyes hears the final human male’s shout of “Showoff!”

Thankfully, the sainted woman quickly gets them moving  with a loud “Gil! Shut it!”  and a not so gentle shove for either of her companions.

Even after they’re long gone, it’s some time before Ryder comes up for air, and Reyes feels a throaty whisper against his lips that makes his dick stand up and pay attention.   “I _like_ associating with you. Everyone else can mind their own damned business.”

“Are you sure?” Reyes gasps in the fight to control the fire in his belly.  “Perhaps you can provide a more detailed explanation back in your quarters-”

Ryder licking the edge of his ear lobe sets off shivers but somehow the little fuck can still be coherent. “Nnnnope. Food first.”

And with that, the evil little shit abandons Reyes to the corridor, disappearing in the direction of the commissary.

“Revenge will be mine,” Reyes mutters to no one in particular, and sets off after Ryder. Or as fast as his erection allows him, at any rate.

The commissary is crowded, which, since arriving in Heleus, is a rare experience for Reyes.  There had been barely enough people first awakened on the Nexus to fill more than a shuttle or two, and Kadara had always been sparsely populated under Sloane’s rule for all the wrong reasons.  Finding Ryder through the throng might prove difficult but Reyes is persistent. 

He keeps to the perimeter, as he always does in a new location.  Face the room. Know your exits. Being constantly on guard is fatiguing but saved his skin on more than one occasion. Survival is the name of the game in Andromeda and there’s an odd sense of disquiet in observing this swarm of people move so freely as they go on about their day.

But it’s not them, is it. It’s him that can’t let down his guard.  The easy laughter, the loud chatter is so unfamiliar, a society he thought long lost after fighting every second of the day for each crumb, every drop of water. It’s easy to forget that there are other ways to live beyond scrounging for subsistence.

And perhaps he’s not the only one.  Out of the corner of his eye, he spots the turian from Ryder’s crew, Vetra he remembers.  They traveled the same circles but only truly met once Ryder made their worlds collide in spectacular fashion.  Her eagle-eyed stare unabashedly watches back and he can see her thoughts performing some complex calculus on his every move. 

If she is there, that means there’s one last member to join this little party and behind him Reyes hears the creak of bones and old cybernetics.

“Ah, yes.  Drack is it?” he tries, all smiles and thick charm.  “It’s good to finally meet you one on one.”

The Krogan has the voice of an old oak tree. “Save your shit for someone who gives a damn.”

The raw animosity reinforces how bad an idea it is to piss off an enormous krogan up close. Reyes isn’t at all surprised that Ryder’s tall turian friend flanks him with his attention turned to the krogan.

“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?” Reyes says warmly, rubbing his hands at whatever game is unfolding before him. “What shall it be today?” He looks to Drack, then Vetra. ”I’ve already had others in your crew try to shoot me, so you’ll have to come up with something new if you want to make an impression.”

The krogan stabs him in the chest with a meaty finger. “I’ll make an impression all right. You hurt Ryder and I’ll stomp you so flat they’ll need to scrape you off the floor.”

“Easy, Drack,” the turian intercedes smoothly. “After everything Ryder did for him on Kadara, even Vidal wouldn’t betray him _again_.”   

Her look of accusation hits him as hard as a krogan.  “ _Right_?”

Reyes is no fool. He knows he deserves the scorn, the insinuations yet he no less wants to set it alight and burn it to the ground.  He made his bed, he did what he had to do to accomplish what he thought was best, but how it fucking _hurts_ when no one can possibly believe that he feels the realest thing he’s ever known.

“I know why you’re concerned,” he begins as diplomatically as he can, anger straining at its tight leash with all its might. “But you have nothing to fear from me.”

The krogan looms closer and rumbles “It’s not _me_ that has anything to worry about.”

Love is a strange thing, really. It gets built up as this font of purity and innocence, but cold reality is that it is volatile and dangerous. And apparently makes you suicidal, because it’s now that calm, cool, collected Reyes finally breaks. 

“Surely there is no way for my intentions are benign!” he begins slow and unhurried, but that quickly spirals away from him. “Because when every Outcast on Kadara literally wants your head on a spike, the best way to maintain a low profile is to fall in love with the most visible, most scrutinized man in the galaxy, no?”

Heart hammering in his chest, Reyes blinks away the realization that he is nearly shouting. All eyes are on him and for once, he does not care.

“I have no idea why Ryder has any faith in me after all I’ve done,“ he seethes more quietly at the two towering over him. “But he does and I will do _everything_ in my power to live up to that. The _last_ thing I want is to see Ryder hurt!”

Some fuse must have blown in his brain, because Reyes jabs the krogan in the chest, just as Drack did to him.  “So save your shit for someone who gives a damn!”

The sudden silence brings with it a sudden return to sanity and from the look on the krogan’s face, Reyes wonders if he’s about to personally find out what it feels like when someone snaps your spine in half.

What he gets instead is an explosive boom of laughter.

“Guess I owe Vetra a little something from Umi’s!” the krogan howls and delivers a thunderous clap on the back that nearly knocks Reyes off his feet. “Didn’t think you’d have the quads! Guess I was wrong.”

Relief cools his fire, but it’s been a long, long time since Reyes had someone get the upper hand. “You’re testing me?

“Yup,” Vetra answers, her eyes alight. “You got angry.  Ryder must really matter to you. Which is good, because he really matters to us.”

An outside voice comes into the fray.

“If you break him, I’m gonna be pissed because I already lost the receipt.” 

Ryder saunters up, laden with enough food piled high on a tray that it threatens to spill at any moment, but his attention seems not fully with them, as if he listens for something only he can hear.

“You have loyal friends, Ryder,” Reyes says, drawing himself to his full height. “Evil, twisted, loyal friends.”

That earns a nod from Ryder, his focus no longer scattered. “And violent. Don’t forget violent.”

“Aww, you’re making me blush!” Drack adds, still rumbling with his ‘hehehe’.

“Just looking out for you, Ryder,” Vetra finishes, mandibles still twitching.

Ryder sits back on his haunches, not at all amused. “Thanks Mom, thanks Grandpa. I think I can take it from here.”

The krogan idly scratches at his head ridges. “Humans are fuckin’ weird.”

“You got that right.” The turian turns with a parting glance over her shoulder. “C’mon, gramps. You can buy me those drinks now.”

“Well, that was the opposite of fun,” Reyes mutters as he watches them stroll off, trying to dust off what’s left of his dignity.

Inching closer, Ryder murmurs a soft “You okay?”

It sounds like such an innocent question, but the radiating concern, the tenderness which it is offered and how unfamiliar it all is leave Reyes with his heart aching.

“Better now,” he answers breaking into a genuine smile.

“Good.”  A sweet, simple answer that can heal all wounds.

The return to Ryder’s quarters is much less eventful, much to the relief of both of them.  They sit across from each other, a mountain of food between them. It’s only now that Reyes realizes how much he is starving and soon, the mountain isn’t a mountain for very long. 

Making his way through the last of the paripo fruit, Reyes feels Ryder’s eyes on him and he still can’t shake off a faint air of dread that’s followed him since this morning.

“Something between my teeth?” he asks, a play at casual that he doesn’t really feel.

Ryder seems to linger over the last of his dried tavarv.  “Did you mean what you said?”

The dread manifests a thousand fold. “I’ve said a lot of questionable things. You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“I love you.”

Who would have thought that of all the things that would kill Reyes, it would be choking to death on a bite of paripo? His pulse bounds across his ear drums as he coughs out “I’m sorry, what?”

“You said it twice.”

So… Ryder heard what Reyes had blurted out to his crew?  All of it? How? The man had been nowhere near-

There’s no time for more of his musings when he sees that Ryder is haggard again all of a sudden, that weariness weighing down his brow.

“No turning back now,” Ryder sighs to himself.  “I… I need to hear you say it again. Not in the heat of the moment. Not when you’re driving me crazy, or when I’m driving you crazy-“

“Ryder.”

“Or _especially_ not when my friends are driving you cra-“

“ _Ryder_!”

The man turns impossibly young, blue eyes wide and hopeful. With all that he succeeded where others had fallen, with so many souls he saved, it’s shockingly easy to forget exactly just how young Ryder actually is.

Reyes soaks up the silence for a moment before taking up one of Ryder’s hands that lays splayed out on the table, skin turned green from the tavarv.

“Such power you have over me,” Reyes whispers softly, bringing the palm to his lips to kiss each stained fingertip in turn. “You are everything-the man I want to be like, the man I want to be with. I love you. I truly do. However many times I need to say it, I will.”

His heart nearly breaks when the hand tears away from his but there’s a terrible cacophony as plates and utensils go flying from a full-grown man climbing his way across the table. It’s a whirlwind of movement until Ryder lands, fully straddling the lap offered to him and Reyes yields to the messy fingers carding through the hair at nape of his neck to pull his head back. 

“You,” Reyes hears over and over, Ryder cradling him into an all-encompassing kiss, first one, then another and another, rocking with the chair beneath them creaking in protest under a tangle of limbs.

“You are _insane_ , you are _impossible_ , you are _incredible_ -”

Finally, finally Ryder meets him eye to eye and Reyes hears what he never expected to have, what he never thought he deserved. 

“I love that. I love _you_.”

And there you have it. A mutual declaration newly born and fragile as an infant.  It takes its first steps with Reyes pressed into Ryder’s shoulder and Ryder with his face buried in Reyes’s hair and the dread burns away like fog under a rising sun.

How close they’d come to missing out on this. A simple message turned into something extraordinary, the beat of a butterfly’s wings on Kadara turned into a massive tornado here on Meridian.

**_Ryder needs you_ **

May that never change.

They keep to the embrace, willing the world outside their little sanctum to away, at least for this little while.


End file.
